Stick By Me
by Uncle Charlie
Summary: Can one person make a difference? Shu Chang didn't think so, but UNCLE was about to prove her wrong. A Working Stiffs story


There's a small park by my clinic and I like to take my lunch there. I think that it does a person good to reconnect with the world, even if it's only a small plot of ground with a few bushes and flowers in it. I know the sisters who work to keep it a green and calming oasis in the heart of Chinatown. It's so important for me to sit, if only for a few moments to reconnect with nature.

I was sitting on the bench, tossing the crumbs from my much-too-stale sandwich to some birds when I first saw Tom. Of course, I didn't know that was his name at the time. He was hunched over and sort of staggering. Pain was etching his face and my heart broke. Instantly, I was on my feet and to his side.

"Sir, are you all right? Can I help you?"

"It's my sciatica," he murmured.

"I have a clinic just a few steps from here. Do you think you can make it?" I was desperate for business, but I also knew I could help, if he'd let me.

Between the two of us, I managed to get him into my exam room and helped him take his jacket off.

"Would you mind removing your shirt as well?"

He smiled and started unbuttoning his shirt. "If I had a dollar for every young woman who asked me that, I'd have a dollar.

I laughed and waggled my finger at him. "First that's very naughty and second, you are very kind. I am not a young woman."

"Compared to me, everyone is young." It took a bit more effort to get his cuff links out and I folded the shirt neatly as he climbed up on the table.

"Mind how you store those," he said as I set them down gently on the shirt. He smiled in a sort of self-conscious way. "They are a gift from my father who got them from his father. Tradition."

I nodded. I lived surrounded by tradition. At times, I choked on it. "I understand. Can you lay down on your stomach?"

"Are you a chiropractor?"

"Not exactly. I'm an acupuncturist."

"A what?"

It's a Chinese form of medicine that's thousands of years old. It works with the energy of your body."

"Hmm."

"You sound doubtful."

"I don't mean to. In my long life, I have seen any incredible things. Nothing surprises me to the point of doubt anymore."

"It's extremely safe and the most you will feel is possibly a tiny prink." I ran my hands down his back, wincing as the skin grew hot to the touch. "You have a lot of inflammation here. I am guessing this is the spot?"

"Yes." His voice sounded pained, even with my light touch. I gently dabbed the area with alcohol and then brushed it with a liniment my grandmother made for me. She is a bit of a nag, but her medicines are very good. I peeled open a packet of needles. Despite the cries of dismay from the old practitioners of the art, I preferred the safety of disposable needles.

"Okay. Are you ready?" I slipped one in before he could answer.

"Whenever you are." I smiled at that. It took me no time to place the other needles, then I adjusted the heat lamp.

"Okay, now just rest for a few moments."

"What? That's it? That didn't hurt at all."

"Well, I can make it hurt, but I'd rather not."

"No, that's fine."

"Relax. Listen to the music and breathe evenly." I dimmed the lights, turned the music on and slipped out.

When I returned a half hour later, he hadn't moved. I turned up the lights gradually until I saw him stir. "How are you feeling?"

"Surprisingly good."

"Excellent." I quickly slipped the needles out and discarded them. I carefully massaged a bit more ointment into the area and then helped him sit up. The look on his face told me everything I needed to hear. I knew I had a convert.

Over the course of the next two months, I saw a lot of Tom. He always brought me a rose and a kind word. Then came one morning. Tom arrived for his usual appointment and seemed unusually preoccupied. It wasn't until he was pulling his shirt off that he finally admitted what was troubling him.

"Shu Chuan, do you make house calls?" I loved that he used my real name and not Susan, as so many of the other patients did. Still his question startled me.

"Not as a rule. Why do you ask?"

"I have a friend who is in desperate need of your services, but his job makes him a high profile target for some rather unpleasant gentlemen. He would never be able to properly relax here."

"Then I shall go to him. When would he like me to come?"

"He will work around your schedule. When do you have an opening?"

That nearly made me laugh. With as much competition that there is for patients in Chinatown, I could be gone a month and no one would notice. "Whenever he would like."

"Could we go now?"

"Perhaps after your treatment?"

"Could you do it at the same time? I think it would make him feel better."

That was my introduction to the world of UNCLE. I never knew such an organization existed, but I suppose that's the whole point of it. Within a month, I had an office set up in the Medical wing and a steady stream of customers. Soon, my other life seemed only a distant memory.

One thing you learn early about dealing with UNCLE's Section Two agents is that you need to tell them everything you are going to be doing to them beforehand. They are the toughest of the tough, but to the man, none of them like surprises. A nurse with a slightly crocked nose gave me that advice and I heeded it.

Eventually most of Section Two found their way to my doors. Some came for the treatment, but I think many came just for that half hour of peace and quiet, just them, the heat lamp, and music softly playing in the background.

I had six of my eight rooms occupied when one of my favorite patients appeared at my door. Illya had been one of my first regulars. He explained that his time in Hong Kong had made him a great believer in acupuncture and I had a feeling he was one of the reasons why I was so readily accepted by the agents. They really seemed to trust his judgment.

"Dr. Wang, I have a new patient for you."

"Always music to my ears." I stood up and offered my hand. The gentleman had kind features and the most seductive of brown eyes, bedroom eyes, I think you call them. A woman could get lost in them.

"Dr. Wang, this is my partner, Napoleon Solo."

He took my hand and shook it gently but firmly. "You have strong hands. I'm pleased to meet you, but I think there's been a mistake."

"Napoleon, you have been complaining about your shoulder for a week. Don't you trust me?"

"I don't know."

"He's not wild about needles," Illya explained and I nodded.

"Many of my patients aren't." To Mr. Solo, I said, "I am told I have a very soft touch." The smile that answered me was slightly seductive.

"Indeed?" It was practically a purr.

"Napoleon," Illya scolded and I laughed.

"Perhaps if I were to demonstrate upon you?" I suggested. I knew that agents were often more comfortable in the presence of their partners.

"Of course."

I led the way to my one double room and waited for Illya to lay down upon one of the two exam tables. "Perhaps something to relax?"

He nodded and I dabbed some alcohol on his ear, followed by some of my Grandmother's ointment. It had a mildly numbing aspect to it.

Mr. Solo's eyes grew wide as I took out a set of needles and proceeded in insert three into Illya's ear. He never batted an eye, although I knew one of them was uncomfortable to place.

"See? Nothing to it," he said after I stepped away. Mr. Solo leaned in and looked as if he was going to poke one of the needles, but I caught his wrist.

"That would hurt him." I adjusted the heat lamp. "Is that not too hot?"

"It's perfect."

"All right, in for a pound, I guess. What do I do?"

"Take off your shirt for me and lay down upon the other bed."

By the time I'd retrieved a new pack of needles, he was in position. I looked over at Illya and smiled. He blinked slowly. I wiped the back of Mr. Solo's shoulder with alcohol and then the ointment.

"Napoleon, what do you think of Kaplan?"

"Who?"

"Scott Kaplan." Illya made a face. "You know the wonder kid?"

"Good."

"Too good if you ask me. I think he needs to go back to the island."

"What? His scores were perfect." I slipped the first needle in unnoticed.

"Exactly. Who comes away from the island with perfect scores?"

"Except us, you mean?" Napoleon didn't seem to notice the second or third one, either.

"Yeah."

"You aren't accusing Cutter of cooking his scores?" And another needle.

"Cutter? Not likely. My gut is telling me there's something going on."

"That's hardly scientific proof, partner." Napoleon was too busy scoffing to notice the last needle and I stepped away.

Illya smiled at me. "It's kept me alive this long."

"I've kept you alive this long." He seemed surprised to see me before him. "Aren't you going to start, Doc?"

"I'm all finished, Mr. Solo. Now you just have to relax and listen to the music. No more discussion of work."

"But I -"

I held up a finger to my lips. "Shh, not another word." I turned and walked to the door, lowering the lights.

"Sneak," I heard him whisper.

"Hush, Mr. Solo."

After that, Mr. Solo came on his own, although not as often as some of his fellow agents did. My days flowed easily one into the next and I knew I'd truly found my spot. My father still wanted me to come back and return to the family clinic, but I knew I was making a difference here, although how much of a difference I still had to discover.

That discovery came one sleepy October afternoon. Indian summer was on us and everyone moved as if in a daze, all knowing that soon the cold breezes of winter would be brushing our cheeks.

I was sitting at my desk and trying not to nod off. I'd eaten a bit too much at lunch and was very sleepy. It didn't help that the music was specially designed to relax and soothe.

I had Napoleon in Room Four, and the head of Section Five in Room One. A typist was in Five and a mechanic in Six. Seven was ready for Mr. Carlisle from Accounting and Eight was my just in case of a walk-in room. I hadn't cleaned up Rooms Two and Three yet, but I wasn't expecting much foot traffic.

I was sitting at my desk, going through some charts when suddenly, a shadow blocked the light from the hallway and I sat back, startled.

There was a man, a stranger, standing there and he didn't look happy.

"Where is he?" he demanded loudly. I recognized Scott Kaplan then from a file I'd seen earlier.

"Please lower your voice," I said, firmly, although I was not worried. The rooms are very sound proof, an attempt to block the everyday world from the treatment going on. "Where is who? Are you here for an appointment? I have a room free."

"Solo! What the hell is he?"

"He cannot be disturbed. If you would like to-" That's when I realized I was looking at a weapon. "What are you doing?"

"Where is Solo?" He got closer to me and my fingers found the panic button Illya had wired to my desk. He's said it was a favor and I had laughed then. Now I was thankful.

"He's in treatment and can't be disturbed."

Reflexively, I looked in the direction of the broom closet, its door ajar, wondering if I had anything that could be used to protect myself and my patients.

"I knew you'd give him away."

"What? No, that's the broom closet!"

"Sure, it is." He headed for it and I half stood, trying to catch his hand.

"Don't! I'm telling the truth."

He pushed me backwards so hard that my chair nearly flipped over. He stalked to the closet and opened the door. "Where are you, Solo?" He took a step inside and I could tell he was looking for the light switch.

That momentary distraction was all I need. I hit that door with all the force I could muster. It knocked him inward and I slammed the door behind him. What I didn't tell him was that the door stuck, really badly.

As loudly as I could, I shouted, "Everyone out. Emergency!" Nothing happened and I started to rush toward the clinic door to summon help when a hand caught me.

Scott Kaplan did not look happy. His face was bloody and his clothes were a mess. "Just where do you think you're going, Doc?"

"Nowhere." I could feel the muzzle of the gun beneath my ear.

"Damn straight. Now, give me Solo and you won't be hurt. Or maybe I'll just kill you and then Solo."

"You do and it will be the last thing you ever do."

I nearly wept at the sound of Napoleon's voice. He was stripped to the waist, the acupuncture needles still in his shoulder, but the weapon he pointed at Kaplan ws rock steady.

"Think you can shoot me before I shoot you? The last gunfight at OK Corral." He pushed me away and I stumbled, falling against the desk. I knew Napoleon was fuzzy. He was always a little disoriented for a few minutes after his treatment. For that reason, I usually had a pot of tea brewed and we would sit and talk of general things until he felt all right again.

_Forgive me, great grandmother,_ I thought and brought the teapot down as hard as I could on Kaplan's shoulder. Hot tea gushed out, burning both him and me, but I didn't feel it.

He dropped to the floor, clutching his shoulder. "Don't forget," I said. "There was a doctor at the Okay Corral and he lived."

Illya and a group of other men rushed in. I smiled weakly at him and that's the last I remember.

I woke up in one of my own treatment rooms, a cool compress on my forehead. I tried to move my hand and the jolt of pain made me realize there were a half dozen needles inserted in it. There was a faint noise to my left and my father came into view.

"Pappy," I murmured. "What happened?"

"Shhh, Shu Chuan, rest now. You have made your ancestors proud with your heroism."

"I called him." Tom was there and was looking at me with such compassion. He took my left hand in his and squeezed reassuringly. "I hope you don't mind."

I smiled, realizing that everything was drifting away again. "I never mind when my family takes care of me."

And take care of me they did. My right hand never really did recover from the incident, although the acupuncture helped greatly. My left lacks the subtle touch that is necessary for acupuncture, so now my father is my partner and we share my little clinic at UNCLE HQ. Mr. Waverly insisted that Grandmother set up shop next door and she is teaching me how to make her ointments. I am enjoying learning about the ancient ways with herbs and plants. There seems to be as many people interested in those as acupuncture and we do not hurt for business either at work. Dad is so busy now, he leases the clinic we used to have. Life is very good to us and I have my friends at UNCLE to thank for all of it.

They tell me that Kaplan had been the most successful double agent that THRUSH, the bad guys, had ever gotten into the organization and my quick actions had saved Napoleon and perhaps others. Because of that, Mr. Waverly and Tom have made sure that I want for nothing and I could Napoleon and Illya as very dear friends.

I see it as a kindness for a kindness, knowing that a good deed always comes back to you, usually when you least expect it.


End file.
